


looking out across the water, i said yes

by susiecarter



Category: DC Extended Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Extra Treat, M/M, Post-Canon, ToT: Monster Mash, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat: Treat, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter/pseuds/susiecarter
Summary: A mission gets delayed; so GQ and Croc go for a swim.





	looking out across the water, i said yes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hecate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/gifts).



> ♥

 

 

Mission got scratched.

Well, okay, not scratched. Croc just thought so for a minute, because of how GQ was squawking at the radio.

" _What?_ You've got to be kidding me," he was saying. Couldn't help but hear. "I thought we only had an eighteen-hour window to get this guy—"

"Yeah, we do," Flag said, from the other end. "But that window won't open for a little longer than we thought."

"But—"

"Hold," Flag said. "Until I say otherwise. You stay there, you hold for the next thirty-six hours, and then you get ready, because after that, the next time I radio, it'll be to give you the go-ahead. Copy?"

GQ sighed. "Solid copy," he muttered.

No reason to fuss, Croc thought. Nice place, this little shack. Dark. Kind of damp. Rocks outside, and not much shade. Good for sunning.

"Can't believe this," GQ was grumbling. "Not even a bed in here—in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, and nothing up for at _least_ thirty-six hours. What the fuck are we going to do for thirty-six hours, huh? We are some highly-goddamned-trained secret agents, you and me, and we're just supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our asses for thirty-six goddamned hours—"

Croc tilted his head, breathed in. Windows weren't sealed real good. Could smell the sea from here. "You put your thumb up your ass if you want, bro," he said. "I'm going to swim."

GQ looked at him, and then away, and then cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. "All right."

 

 

 

That was why they were here at all: the sea. Only approach to this base they were headed for. Just good sense, sending Croc.

And GQ, too. He was a SEAL, after all.

Croc didn't mind. Should have, maybe. He didn't like people. Only fair, considering people mostly didn't like Croc, either.

But GQ wasn't like that. Had no reason not to be—had that nickname in the first place because he looked the way people thought people should look. Because he fit where Croc didn't.

But he wasn't like that, never had been. Looked out for Croc, which nobody'd ever done before that Croc could remember. So Croc looked out for him, and didn't mind.

Looked at him, too, sometimes. People were so soft, so small, weird featureless little faces. But GQ'd been around so much Croc was used to him, could almost see what made him pretty.

Way he swam didn't hurt any, either.

Cove wasn't far from the shack they were holed up in, and they didn't need no equipment or nothing. Satisfying, deep down, to watch GQ cut through the water like that—just himself, or close enough. Smelling like himself, instead of plastic and metal and wetsuit; taste of his skin in the water, bare and clean and wet.

Yeah, Croc thought. That was good.

Could hold his breath a pretty damn long time, too.

When he went up for air, Croc drifted up next to him in time to hear him laugh.

"Whoo! That's about the longest I can manage," he said. "Bet it seems pretty fuckin' sad to you, huh?"

"Nah," Croc said. "You do all right, bro."

"For a puny human, sure," GQ filled in, grinning. "But hey, we can't all be crocodiles. Nobody's perfect."

Croc tilted his head and thought about it. "Pretty close, though," he said.

Half just to see GQ startle and gape, get all pink like he did—even prettier that way. And half 'cause it was sort of true. How GQ laughed, how he moved, how he smelled; how he'd look with Croc's hands on him, pressing him down into the sand—yeah.

Not perfect, sure. What was?

But pretty close.

"Uh," GQ said. "Yeah?"

Croc shrugged. "Like you said, nobody's perfect. But you know I got standards—"

And GQ tipped his head back and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, right, I remember," he said, "you're beautiful," and then he coughed and flushed all hot again, eyes dark.

"Damn right," Croc said, and dived. Even better from down here, GQ through all that rippling water, pale and warm and almost bare. Croc swept close, let one hand drift the length of GQ's thigh, brushed a rush of water against the back of his knee. Caught the sound of the splash up above him, as GQ spluttered.

But he didn't move away. Croc grinned into the water, trailed one foot along GQ's ankle and then darted off deeper, and waited for GQ to follow him down.

 

 


End file.
